


High Stakes

by AMRV_5



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 23:08:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17130455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMRV_5/pseuds/AMRV_5
Summary: Newt has never once associated the words “professor of mathematics” with “someone he would love to pin against a wall, or, ideally, be pinned against a way by,” but something about Dr. Tall, Pale, and Drop-Dead Handsome has got Newt bad.





	High Stakes

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter title from "The Giaour" by George Gordon Byron.

The newest faculty member is hot. Newt has never once associated the words “professor of mathematics” with “someone he would love to pin against a wall, or, ideally, be pinned against a way _by_ ,” but something about Dr. Tall, Pale, and Drop-Dead Handsome has got Newt _bad_. The guy’s got a habit of wearing a tragically oversized tweed sport coat, a fraying, leather-elbow-patched monstrosity that’s either straight off a Macy’s clearance rack or a genuine hand-me-down from the 1800’s, and Newt’s just into the whole thing an absurd amount, especially considering all the rumors circulating about the dude.

“I hear he had the fastest hire in departmental history,” Tendo tells him one day over lunch, leaning in conspiratorially. He nods back over his shoulder toward a spot at the far end of the dining hall, where Dr. Hermann Gottlieb has posted up with a laptop and his usual leather briefcase.

“I heard that too. How do you think he managed it?” Newt asks, watching as Hermann, the Perishingly Pretty Prince of Pure Mathematics, adjusts the circular tortoiseshell glasses perched on his nose.

“Dunno. East wing janitor says he just walked off the street, into Hansen’s office, and strolled out two minutes later with tenure.”

“Nah,” Newt says through a mouthful of veggie burger, “he probably had some transfer deal worked out. Nobody can just _get tenured_ like that. Or maybe he’s, like, a really big deal in math. I bet he has a Nobel Prize or something. God, that’d be so hot.”  

“I know that you know math people get Fields Medals,” Tendo says, nose wrinkling as he watches Newt swipe a few stray crumbs off his tie. “I heard he’s in consideration for one, yeah. I also hear he’s totally terrifying the rest of the complex plane-dwellers in the math department.”

“Terrifying? He’s a skinny nerd in a baggy suit.”

“Hey, I just know what I’m told, my man. Liu says he practically lives in his office when he’s not teaching-- I’m talkin’ at work from six AM to ten PM. _Every day._ Never sees the sun.”

“I’m in the lab dawn to dusk too,” Newt points out, stealing a fistful of french fries off Tendo’s plate. “Most days, anyway. So the guy’s a little intense about his research, that’s no big deal.”

“Well,” Tendo persists, checking over his shoulder briefly before leaning even closer, “listen to this. Nobody’s seen the guy eat. Ever. Not once the whole semester. Tell me that’s not freaky.”

“Okay,” Newt pauses, chewing his ill-gotten fries carefully, “that’s a little weird, I’ll give you that, but it isn’t _terrifying_. Maybe he’s got some allergies. Maybe he’s shy. You make it sound like the good doctor’s walking around in a blood-splattered apron and a hockey mask. With a chainsaw.”

“I mean…” Tendo shrugs, gesturing vaguely with a fork. “The same janitor said the guy’s office trash can is always full of bloody tissues, which ain’t too far off, if you ask me.” Tendo sits up straighter, eyes widening in realization. “Oh, man, I bet he’s the one stealing blood bags from med services. Even you have to admit he acts just like a--”

“--A dude suffering from chronic nosebleeds, most likely,” Newt interrupts. “Also? All of this is making me think he’s probably just socially anxious. I would be too, if half the staff thought I was an actual, literal _vampire_. Don’t give me that look, I know you were thinking it.”

“Well, maybe not an actual vampire,” Tendo amends, shrugging. “But he could definitely be one of those weird fetishists, you know? The ones who put out ads asking if people want to drink their blood. Stuff like that.”

Newt scoffs. “Look at him. Does he really seem like the kind of guy that posts fetish ads on Craigslist? He has a pocket protector, for Christ’s sake.”

“It’s always the quiet ones, brother. Always the quiet ones.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Newt says, cracking a crooked grin. “You think he would be too shy to, theoretically, possibly, maybe go on a date with me if I asked?”

“No,” Tendo says quickly, glaring over the rim of his coffee mug.

“No? No, as in you think he’s not too shy?”

“I mean no as in it’s a terrible idea and you’re going to get axe murdered in the guy’s basement.”

“What’s a date without a little risk?”

“Without the risk of _death_? Good, in my experience.”

“You’re such a drama queen. Uncertainty adds to the excitement,” Newt says gleefully, kicking at Tendo’s shins under the table. “Come _on_ , man, tell me we wouldn’t make the cutest couple ever. Tell me we wouldn’t be adorable.”

“You wouldn’t be adorable. Newt. You don’t even know the guy.”

“That’s what dates are _for_ , man, getting to know each other. I’m asking him out. I’m gonna ask him out. I’m gonna do it.”

“No. Do not.”

“I’m gonna do it.”

“Newt.”

“Doing it, though.”

“Can you please pretend to have a sense of self-preservation for _five minutes._ ”

“Mm, nope, I’m asking him out.”

“Leave the eccentric mathematician alone.”

“ _Asking him out I am, young padawan_.”

“Do not bother him.”

“ _Don’t stop me now…”_

“Do not date him.”

“ _Cause I’m gonnabehaving a good time_ …”

“Do not even think about dating him.”

“ _Having a good time withthenewmathprofessorthisFriday_ …”

“Let him do axioms and axe murders in peace. Newt. Please.”  

“ _And I’m not gonnawannastopdatinghim at all…”_

“Can you stop bastardizing Queen for a second and listen?”

Newt holds the last note for a few seconds longer than necessary out of spite because, bastardizing? Really? Newt does not _bastardize_ . Newt _performs_.

“Are you done?” Tendo asks, shoving Newt’s boots back over to his half of the table. “Just don’t be weird about it, is all. And stay safe.”

“I’m never weird about stuff like this.”

“Oh really?”

“I’m cool. I’m suave. I’m smooth. I’m great. I’m a _satellite, I’m out of control, I’m a sex machine ready to reload, like an atom bomb, boutta--”_

“Oh, Newt, _gross_. I’m never gonna be able to listen to Queen again, man. This is exactly what I mean by weird, by the way. Don’t do anything you’re doing right now at this table when you go on your date with Hermann the vampire fetishist-slash-potential actual murderer. I still don’t understand why you’re so into him.”

“What’s not to like? I appreciate the Alan Turing-cum-sexy-older-professor vibe he’s clearly trying to cultivate--” A movement behind Tendo’s left shoulder catches his eye, and _oh, yeesh_ , that’s weird--Hermann has pulled off his glasses and is staring directly at Newt.

“Newt? You good?”

 _Fine,_ Newt tries to say, but the word sticks in his throat.

There’s an almost gravitational pull to Dr. Gottlieb’s gaze; Newt wants to break eye contact, God does he ever, it’s so _awkward_ to be staring down a practical stranger he is also a little bit of a lot attracted to, but he can’t seem to look away. Hermann cuts straight through him with a single look, brown eyes glinting almost _red_ in the fluorescent cafeteria lighting. He feels frozen. Or paralysed; he’s way too hot under the collar to feel truly _frozen._

“Newt, man, hello? Anyone home?” Tendo snaps a few times in front of Newt’s face, and it’s enough to break him out of the impromptu staring contest. Barely.

“Uh,” Newt says, feeling his cheeks start to burn.

“You alright? You spaced out for a good ten seconds there, buddy.”

“Yeah,” Newt says, voice cracking halfway through the word. He clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, I’m good. Sorry.”

He risks another glance over Tendo’s shoulder. Hermann’s old man glasses are back on his nose and he’s peering down at his laptop, deep in concentration.

“...Turing,” Newt whispers to himself. He says it so quietly that not even Tendo hears, but he swears that the corner of Hermann’s mouth ticks up slightly in response.

\------------------------------

“Tau,” Newt says, peeling off his gloves.

“Nhh?” Tau responds, fiddling with a microscope.

“Tau, it’s almost nine. You’re gonna break curfew. C’mon, buddy, time to pack up.”

“Screw the curfew,” Tau says, but sighs and starts to bundle up his slides anyway.

“Aww, hey, love the attitude, little guy. Stick it to the Man.” Newt chucks a reagent into the biohazard bin by the wall. “But in this case, the Man is right. ‘S too dangerous. Scoot,” he says, gently pressing his research assistant towards the sink. “Clean those hands and then get out of my lab.”

Tau mutters something unintelligible beneath the hiss of the high-pressure faucet, then says, louder, “I just don’t get it.”

“What’s to get?” Newt asks, already heading for the door.

“The curfew. It makes no sense.” The kid dries his hands on his jeans, a bad habit he’s no doubt picked up from Newt. “Like some wild animal is gonna put off attacking because it’s before nine P.M.”

“I mean, not down to the hour it won’t. But the administration probably just wants everybody home before dark. Makes it easier to check for missing people, if the thing’s nocturnal like everybody thinks.”

“I don’t care what _everyone_ thinks. What do _you_ think?” Tau asks, snagging his backpack and jogging after Newt.

“I think that I’m a neurologist, and not qualified to speculate about wild animal attacks,” Newt non-answers, locking the lab behind them and striding out into the falling darkness.

“But you’re also a marine biologist, and a zoologist, and a bioethicist, and a cellular biologist, and a bioengineer,” Tau presses, “emphasis on zoologist. And I’m not gonna tell anyone, I just...would feel better knowing what to watch out for. I mean, you saw what happened to that guy last week.”

Newt winces. He remembers all too well. He’s still haunted by the grisly photos in the morning news, under the one-hundred point font title proclaiming **_ESCAPED MURDERER FOUND DEAD!_ ** and, in slightly smaller font beneath: **_Wanted Killer Nearly Decapitated in Animal Attack!_ **

Suppressing a shiver he can’t entirely contribute to the quickly cooling autumn weather, Newt steps a little faster. “What I think is the same as what everyone else thinks. It was probably a starving coyote who caught the guy in a back alley.”

“A coyote? In downtown Boston?”

“What else could it be?”

“C’mon. You have to know what it looks like--”

“What are you suggesting?” Newt interrupts, glancing dubiously at Tau.

“I dunno. I’m just saying. I’ve heard some stuff. Stories. People walking at night and… losing time. Or suddenly realizing they’re at home without remembering how they got there. Mauled deer showing up in the woods.”

“Huh. I wonder what could possibly maul a deer? Maybe...a coyote, Tau, would that fit the evidence?”

“Okay, say a coyote is in downtown Boston. It just so happens to kill an escaped murderer in an alley with no cameras? And it’s killed all these animals in the woods in the exact same way every time... with a bite to the neck… that’s an insane coincidence, right? That has to mean something.”

“Are you suggesting...what, that it’s--” _vampires_ , Newt doesn’t say, though he knows Tau is thinking it, “--people? Or a person? There were clear bite-and-tear markings on the bodies. Inhuman bites. It’s an-- admittedly-- odd series of animal attacks, cut and dry.” He tries to keep the irritation out of his voice, but honestly, he’s supposed to be teaching the kid to be a scientist, not superstitious.

“Maybe.” Tau stops abruptly, digging through his pockets. “Shit. Hey, uh, I forgot my phone in the lab. Can we go back for it?”

“Dude, it’s already past nine…” Newt cranes his neck. They’ve walked far enough for the lab to be mostly out of sight behind a thick line of trees and the science library; they’re only a few yards from the edge of the math building, where Newt would normally split off towards the T station and Tau would head back to the dorms. “...Fine, but make it fast. I mean _fast,_ kid, I am not covering for you if security finds you out past curfew.”

“That’s a lie, Dr. G,” Tau grins, catching the keys Newt tosses to him with one hand.

“Of course it’s a lie. Because I’m getting soft,” Newt grumbles, watching Tau jog away, his rapidly shrinking figure disappearing beyond the distant line of trees.

A few minutes pass in relative silence. The last dregs of light from the setting sun slowly filter away, sinking Newt into a liminal twilight.

A dry leaf skitters down the sidewalk, propelled by a chilly gust of wind. The half-bare trees above Newt hiss and shake strangely, branches creaking and groaning in the breeze. A car door slams somewhere in the distance; clouds pass across the nearly-full moon, throwing patches of campus into eerie, intermittent shadow deeper than the surrounding darkness.

The only light comes from a row of jack-o’-lanterns crouching along the steps leading up to the math building, disembodied, orange-fanged grins uncomfortably sinister in the blackness.

Vampires. Seriously?

Newt kicks a pebble with a heavy-booted foot. It clatters to a stop in a black pool of shadow outside his line of sight.

He sighs. He’s actually surprised it’s taken this long for his own lab to get on board with the blood-sucking zeitgeist, widespread as it is. It almost feels like he’s been plunged back into the _Twilight_ era of vampire obsession. Formerly rational students are running scared, dead convinced that monsters are everywhere around them. Tendo’s been suffering through a legion of mid-semester transfers into his mythology and folklore class, all clamoring for lectures on vampire hunting; the nurses have been reporting blood bag theft (eugh, seriously, gross, just no); and anybody with behavior deemed ‘unusual’ by the student body at large is half-seriously suspected of being a member of the undead. Newt’s been called a bloodsucker by the university’s financial office more times than he can count. He was still oddly offended the first time a student accused him of _literally sucking blood._

At this rate, it’s only a matter of time before someone innocent gets staked.

Eh, any potential staking victim would be innocent, to be clear. Because vampires aren’t real and Newt certainly does not believe in them.

Nope.

Not Newt.

Never.

An unwanted image of last week’s paper flashes in his mind; he quickly shakes his head to clear it. Fanaticism aside, _something_ is out there. And he’s been standing alone in the darkness for a while. Probably too long of a while, actually, and he’d let Tau head back to the lab alone…

A prickle of worry crawls its way up Newt’s back. How long had it been anyway? Five minutes? Ten? The kid should’ve been back by now. He squints into the darkness, pausing to clean his thick glasses on the edge of his shirt. The futility of the action strikes him as he places the frames back on his face. Clean glasses cannot overcome the fact that it is just too dark to see. That’s something he’ll look into later, human eyesight, thresholds of, preferably when he’s somewhere safe and warm like in the train or--

A particularly frigid gust of wind briefly whisks the moon out from behind the clouds, throwing the area around Newt into a sharp, colorless contrast. The extra light lets him see that the lamppost a few yards away has had its bulb smashed. Shards of glass glitter icily around its base. And around the base of the one beyond that. And the next one, and the one after-- is working, actually. Newt tucks his chin into his jacket and starts to head for the distant circle of yellow light. May as well wait where Tau can see him.

He only makes it a few steps before he slows to a stop. It could be the darkness playing tricks on his vision, or an oddly shaped hedge, but it looks like someone is standing stock-still in the shadows just past the lamp. He furrows his brow.

The longer Newt looks, the more certain he is that there is somebody poised and waiting just beyond the tiny puddle of light. It’s a tall silhouette, and lean, though still indistinct in the darkness. A brief, incoherent memory of nights wasted on the internet in the early 2000’s hits him like a punch to the gut and he thinks, absurdly, _slenderman?_ before his rational brain takes back over and he takes a slow step backward.

The shadow takes a step forward.

“What the _fuck,_ ” Newt breathes. He walks backward steadily, pulse pounding in his ears. His eyes never leave the silhouette, which seems to be moving steadily closer. Not in a straight line, not through the light, but rather around the edges, keeping itself cloaked in blackness, moving with a slow, fluid, intentional gait that triggers something primal in Newt’s subconscious mind. _Careful,_ the thing whispers in the back of his head, prey instincts half-buried by millions of years of evolution still present enough to recognize the calculated gait of a killer. _Careful. That’s a predator._

“Tau?” he asks, fighting to keep hold of his rational mind as adrenaline floods his bloodstream. The figure doesn’t respond. It just keeps slinking forward, slow and deliberate. Predatory.

“Tau, dude, not funny. If-- if you keep it up I’m not gonna reapply for funding and then where will you be? No Dr. G and no lab, that’s where. Quit it.”

A massive, slow-moving cloud passes over the moon. All Newt sees before he’s plunged back into Stygian darkness is a flash of red light reflected off of someone’s-- or, no, oh god, nope, _something’s?_ eyes. His own eyes strain to adjust to the sudden change.

“Tau!” he says again, desperate, resolve breaking under a fresh wave of terror. He fumbles for his phone and manages to drop it onto the pavement; he falls to his knees to retrieve it, all the while trying to convince himself that he can’t hear the quiet tap-tap-tap of rapidly approaching footsteps--

“Hah!” he shouts, half-triumphant, half-terrified, flicking his phone’s flashlight on and shining it up, up and forward, directly into the face of-- Dr. Hermann Gottlieb?

Hermann reflexively throws a hand out in front of himself, startled, and manages to catch Newt in the gut with the end of his cane. “Who the hell-- Dr. _Geiszler?”_

Newt gasps out something that sounds like “yeah,” but he’s also crouched on the ground, arms curled protectively around his belly, so he doesn’t know how clearly it comes across. His pulse is still pounding in his ears, adrenaline running on high.

“Why-- _what_ in God’s name were you doing, sitting here in complete darkness?”

“Why were you slinking around like a vampire?” Newt counters, indignant.

Hermann’s perfectly-shaped eyebrows raise incrementally. “Like a ‘vampire’? Really, you too?”

“What?” Newt asks, defensive. “You scared me.” He breathes out, pressing a hand against his chest. “Think you almost gave me a heart attack, dude.”

“I’d say it was the other way around, _doctor_ ,” Hermann says pointedly, moving to step around Newt.

Newt quickly stands up and steps back into his path. He doesn’t believe in vampires, of course he doesn’t, calling Hermann one was just a verbal slip, but...the guy’s still acting suspicious. “No, you were the one gliding around in the shadows, acting like you didn’t hear me. I said, like, three whole things to you and you didn’t respond. That was top-shelf creepy behavior.”

That gives Hermann pause. “I...was listening to music.”

Newt glances down to see, oh, yup, a pair of earbuds clutched in Hermann’s non-cane hand. Oops.

“Oops,” Newt says sheepishly, mentally revising his understanding of the situation from ‘Newt was terrorized by an eccentric mathematician’ to ‘Newt terrorized a perfectly normal mathematician by springing out of the darkness and shoving a flashlight in his face.’

“Indeed,” Hermann says drily, and glances over Newt’s shoulder. A line of concern creases his brow, and Newt spins around to face the direction Hermann’s looking in so quickly he trips over his own boots. He’s not worried, though. All the vampire talk’s got him feeling a little jumpy. That’s all.

It takes him a second to pick out what Hermann is looking at; a small pinprick of light is bobbing up and down in the distance, hovering about four feet off the ground. With a little squinting, Newt’s able to make out the vague outline of Tau, phone flashlight in hand, rounding the bank of trees.

“Is that a student?” Hermann asks, and oops, Newt forgot about the curfew for a few seconds there under what seemed like the threat of imminent attack (of the regular, non-vampiric kind, obviously), but things are falling back into place now.

“Yeah. He’s with me, though, so it’s fine.”

Hermann shoots him a semi-horrified glare. “You let a student out after curfew?”

“Not intentionally. We had a lab run a little late, so. Walkin’ him home.” Newt glances over and catches the full lateral force of Hermann’s gaze, deep brown eyes flaring blood-red in the flashlight’s beam. Are human eyes supposed to reflect color like that? It’s a little bit hot but also maximally intimidating and reminds him a lot of their bizarre staring contest at lunch.

“Ah. I see,” Hermann says awkwardly, breaking eye contact and sidestepping Newt again. “It’s not safe out here. I really must be going or I’ll, eh, miss my train. Goodnight, Doctor.”

“Hey!” Newt reaches out and snags Hermann’s wrist; thin and cold beneath the sleeve of his heavy parka. A weird fashion choice considering it isn’t even Halloween yet, but the oversized coat’s kind of adorable and the wind _is_ chilly--

“What?” Hermann practically snarls, yanking his arm out of Newt’s grasp.

 _The train station’s the other way,_ Newt doesn’t say. Instead he stumbles back, shocked by the sheer amount of rage Hermann’s managed to fit into the single-syllable question.

They stare at each other in uncomfortable silence for a minute before Hermann clears his throat. “Apologies, Dr. Geiszler. I’ve...not eaten, and I’ve been told I can be a right terror on an empty stomach. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Oh,” Newt relaxes, cause, _relatable_ , “dude, no problem, we all get a little hangry from time to time. Just ask my grad students, I mean, the last time I skipped lunch--”

“Yes. Goodnight,” Hermann interrupts, already hurrying away down the sidewalk, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Hey, Gottlieb--” _All or nothing,_ Newt thinks, and steels himself before shouting, “Let me buy you a drink or something sometime!”

Hermann doesn’t slow down or even acknowledge the invitation, so Newt starts to jog to keep up, which really isn’t doing his already elevated pulse any favors. “You know. To make up for scaring you. If you want. Hermann?”

Hermann turns abruptly, and Newt nearly overbalances as he stumbles to a halt.

A slim, cool hand on his shoulder steadies him, and then moves to hold him in place. Newt risks a glance up to find that Hermann is-- looking him over. Carefully. Analytically. And while Newt would normally be all over that kind of obvious attention from a really cute guy that he’s not-so-secretly into, it feels less like he’s being _checked out_ and more like he’s being evaluated for his overall nutritional value.

“Hey, man, I’m not a piece of meat,” Newt says weakly, only half-joking.

“Drinks?” Hermann asks slowly, ignoring his half-baked quip.

“Drinks,” Newt confirms, crossing his arms and blocking Hermann’s stare. “You know, at a bar or something. How about it?”

“I’m not too keen on drinks,” Hermann says at last, tone unreadable.

“Oh--that’s okay, maybe we could--” Newt starts, but trails off when Hermann’s hand leaves his shoulder. He skims two ice-cold fingers over the pulse point in Newt’s neck; the touch is so brief and feather-light it could be brushed off as completely accidental.

“I wouldn’t say no to a bite,” Hermann says, eyeing him strangely. The edge of his mouth quirks up, a tiny smirk directed at some private, internal joke Newt can only guess at.

“A...bite?” Newt asks, swallowing harshly.

Hermann’s eyes drop to track the movement of his throat.

“Hey, Dr. G--whoa, _Doctors G_ , plural!” Tau’s approaching voice breaks the increasingly tense silence.

“A bite...of dinner, _Dr. G._ Keep up,” Hermann says, turning again to leave. This time Newt lets him.

Almost.

“Hey, wait, how should we--?” he shouts at Hermann’s retreating back.

Hermann passes Tau on the sidewalk with a polite nod. “You have my staff email, Doctor. I trust even you are capable of utilizing that information competently,” Hermann calls over his shoulder. “If not, I suppose I’ll just have to hunt you down.” He disappears completely into the darkness with an oddly dramatic swish of his overlarge parka.

“Makin’ friends, Doc?” Tau asks, tucking his hands into his pockets as they resume their walk.

“I’m actually not sure,” Newt says, glancing back, as though he might still be able to see Hermann’s silhouette in the blackness. He remembers the cool, lateral press of a pair of fingers against his throat and shivers.

“You know they call that guy the vampire of building 3-A,” Tau says, far too casually.

“Really?” Newt asks, completely neutrally, like a guy who does not believe in the supernatural at all and is not reconsidering the veracity of any rumors surrounding one of his esteemed colleagues. There’s definitely not an uncertain verbal tilt to the word that would imply otherwise, because that would be weird, and not at all like Dr. Newton G, hardcore scientist of the highest pedigree.

“Yeah,” Tau nods, scuffing his shoes over the pavement. “‘Cause he’s so weird and pale and stays inside all day.”

“All those things also apply to me,” Newt sighs, half-heartedly defending a man he barely knows for the second time that day.

Tau shoots him an incisive look. “They do, don’t they.”

“Oh, totally. Didn’t I tell you?” Newt pops the collar on his leather jacket and leans in close, squinting. “Me ‘n Dr. G are founding members of the Vampiric Teachers’ Union. Those fresh brains in the neuro lab? Those’re straight outta my _victims,_ ” he hisses, using the best spooky voice he can muster up. “And Dr. Gottlieb’s mysteriously opaque coffee thermos is filled with blood.”

“Okay, okay,” Tau laughs, splitting off in the direction of his dorm. “I get it. You’re not out for blood. But Dr. Gottlieb? C’mon. If anyone on campus is a vampire, it’s totally him.”

“Don’t be mean, kid. Respect your elders.” Newt says, and it’s not a disagreement.

“Thought I was s’posed to be sticking it to the Man?”

“Well, yeah, that too,” Newt laughs, turning away.

He makes it to the station without further incident. It only hits him when he’s a stop away from home--

Didn’t Hermann say he had to catch a train?

He’d mentioned it, sure, but he’d been walking _away_ from the station, towards the neurolab and the dark woods beyond.

Newt leans forward in his seat, surreptitiously checking around the nearly-empty train for a glimpse of green parka. Nothing.

“Weird,” Newt whispers, earning him a few strange looks from the smattering of other passengers around him. Whatever. He’s a hardline empiricist, a career scientist who does not believe in magic or the supernatural. He is dedicatedly rational. He has definitely not been spooked into believing in the undead by an oddball mathematician in a parka.

Nope.

Not Newt.

Never.

And if he happens to furtively Google ‘northeast U.S. vampire folklore’ in the warm safety of his own apartment, well, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Here's chapter one of my mystery-romance vampire au! lemme know if you liked it!! Find me on tumblr and twitter at AMRv_5 to prompt me, get updates on my fic, or just to say hi!!!


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